


Loyalty

by Socrates7727



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Fear, I lied, I promise, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, It's never going to be continued, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Rescue, Secret Relationship, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21753226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socrates7727/pseuds/Socrates7727
Summary: Everyone finds out where Draco's loyalties really lie, and it's not where everyone thinks....
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 301





	Loyalty

“Well, is it him?” Those four words sank into Draco’s stomach the second he heard them. His left forearm burned with his father’s anger, but he pretended not to feel it. True, Harry had clearly been hit with some kind of stinging jinx. But Draco knew that face anywhere and he knew those eyes—he knew  _ Harry _ —and he couldn’t make himself say it. 

Vaguely, he heard his father speaking. Something about promises or setting everything straight, being forgiven by the Dark Lord. He couldn’t hear it, though, because his eyes were locked with those emerald rings and he couldn’t breathe. There was no fear there. No distrust, no betrayal, and no fear despite this being Harry’s death sentence. Did Harry… trust him? Or did he just not care anymore?

“Don’t be shy, sweetie. Come over!” Aunt Bella pulled him over to where she’d forced Harry to his knees. Even with one eye swollen shut, Draco knew. He knew but his voice wouldn’t let him say a word and he didn’t fight it that hard because he didn’t want to. His father’s gaze burned into the back of his skull.  _ Have to be sure _ ,  _ or he’ll kill us all. _ They had to be sure.

“What happened to his face?” Someone answered, or maybe someone asked another question. Draco wasn’t listening, he was watching. Harry’s one good eye flicked across Draco’s skin, taking in every pale curve and every bruise that he’d sustained. There was concern, there, and maybe even anger? But Harry… 

Harry looked, well, like Harry. That one emerald eye was stubborn and anything but complacent, despite where they were, and the Gryffindor was just so fucking  _ fearless _ that it made Draco want to scream. He’d lived his entire life in fear, cowering at every raised voice. But here Harry was, disfigured and on his knees, surrounded by the Dark Lord’s inner circle, and yet there was nothing but resilience in that beautiful face. Draco had always admired that, but never had any of his own. 

Aunt Bella grabbed the dark-haired boy by the hair and forced his head back, exposing his throat and his face, but Draco didn’t need to see it. He knew exactly what that smooth, curved neck looked like, with or without Aunt Bella’s display of dominance. He knew how it tasted, too. He knew what Harry’s pulse felt like against his lips, and he knew what the savior’s hands looked like when they clashed against Draco’s pale skin. He knew. 

Harry blinked at him, but Draco was already gone. That night, in the Astronomy Tower, when he just couldn’t take it anymore and he felt like skinning himself alive. Suffocating. The Gryffindor’s voice—warm, and worried—when he saw Draco with a knife to his skin. Choking on the tears, drowning. How quickly panic had danced across that beautiful face, only to be replaced with a sad, twisted sort of understanding. 

He saw flashes, just pieces of memories… The knife clattering down the shingles of the roof as Harry knocked it from his hands. Collapsing. The sudden security of a tight embrace—Harry’s arms: strong, and unwilling to let him go. Sobbing. Hearing Harry’s whisper against his ear drum and just praying that it would all be over soon, that he wouldn’t have to watch all these people die for nothing. A hand in his hair. That whisper slowly becoming little kisses, pressed against his skin. 

Rough, desperate reassurances, and promises that everything would be okay even though they knew it wouldn’t. Harry’s voice laced with anger, laced with pain, slowly falling from those beautiful lips and into Draco’s skin until he had no choice but to hear it. Relishing in the sound. The crash of lips against his own, and the sweet rush of relief when Harry didn’t pull back. 

_ I can’t be loyal _ .

Draco could still feel those words in his mouth, like sand grinding into his tongue. It’d been true, though, and it still was. His loyalty would always lie with his family because he was terrified beyond belief of losing them, of hurting them, or of being a disappointment. They were his everything. He would turn dark, if that was what it took, and he needed Harry to understand that because—

_ I know. _

Harry had just accepted it, as if Draco was asking for another glass of pumpkin juice. Their lips crashed back together but that time, it was without hesitation because Draco wasn’t afraid. They both knew what would eventually happen. Harry knew, but he just didn’t care. He’d warned the Gryffindor that something like this would happen—some test of his loyalties, some choice between the golden boy and his family—and he’d told him time and time again what choice he would make. They both knew.

But now, looking into that emerald ring, Draco hesitated. He felt his father’s anger and he felt his mother’s encouragement, right alongside Aunt Bella’s, but he hesitated. There was a warmth there, in those memories, that Draco hadn’t realized he’d been missing. It flooded his body and filled every little pinhole of pain anyone had ever dared to stab into him—especially his family. Not love, of course, but something…

Draco was reeling, now, because he had to place that feeling and he had to be sure. Had to be sure... Harry’s eyes, and the way they softened whenever Draco walked into the room. Secret meetups in the Astronomy Tower, whispered  _ I need yous _ , a pendant for dreamless sleep appearing on his pillowcase the day after Draco had told him about the nightmares. Wordlessly, he reached for and felt the pendant beneath his shirt, even now. Harry didn’t love him. But Harry had shown him something that no one else had ever dared to, tucked in between the makeout sessions and the physical need. 

Loyalty. 

It was the way he never refused Draco’s _ I need you _ , even if he was buried in his own shit. It was the way he caught his eyes across the Great Hall and silently begged him to eat something, even if it was something small. It was smoothing his hair when Draco had had a panic attack. It was the reassurances, the little anonymous gestures, the touches,  _ Merlin  _ it was the way Harry kissed him—like he was valuable. 

“Draco.” Aunt Bella tilted her head at him, but Draco couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t look away from that face or those eyes and he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Had to be sure. Had to be sure. Had to be sure. 

“I can’t be sure.” But Draco was sure—he was sure that Harry’s loyalty deserved everything he could give in return. This was a sacrifice he could make, this was how he could help. Immediately, Harry’s one good eye filled with warmth. If they hadn’t been surrounded by Death Eaters, Draco was sure the Gryffindor would have kissed him for his sudden bravery. He’d defied his parents—lied to them. A tear streaked down his cheek, but it was worth it to see that warmth in Harry’s face. Merlin, he would do anything for that warmth—anything not to feel broken and used and empty the way he had for the last four years of his life. 

Chaos erupted. The disfiguration was corrected, a chandelier crashed, and Draco was still rather fuzzy on the details but he vaguely felt Harry’s hands in his own. Wrestling for the wand, but then… wrestling for him? Harry had the wand, he could have run—should have run—but those emerald eyes stared back into his own and Harry grabbed his hand.

“Come on!” Draco obeyed, feeling the static and the heat from the curses being screamed behind him. But Harry had his hand and Draco could do anything as long as Harry didn’t let go. He ran with the golden trio, irony cruel in his blood, but he ran. He ran until they tried to stop and then he dragged them farther, faster, because he knew the people that were hunting them now and they weren’t safe. They didn’t stop until Harry had pulled them into a safehouse and put up about a hundred concealment charms. 

“What the bloody hell is  _ he _ doing here?” Draco glared at the Weasel, but Harry cut them both off before a fight could break out. 

“Not now, Ron.” He didn’t say anything more on the matter, which let Ron stomp off into the next room in peace. Hermione stayed, though. She was the one who saw Harry cup his cheek and run his thumb along the bags beneath his eyes. She was the one who watched Draco crumble to his knees, who watched Harry hold him back together, and who watched them kiss—even if it was brief. For being a know-it-all, Hermione didn’t say a word. Draco managed to catch her eyes, though, as Harry pulled him into his lap and there was a surprising lack of disbelief in her expression. 

“I didn’t expect that of you, Drake.” He stiffened, but refused to look away from Hermione’s eyes. They were sharp and intelligent, like she was daring him to say one wrong word, but Harry was still holding him in a tight hug and refusing to let go. Slowly, he took a deep breath. Those words hit him for exactly what they were—Harry had never expected him to turn sides, had never once thought for even a moment that Draco would choose him over his family—but Draco wasn’t offended. It’d been the truth. Something had changed, though, and even if Harry hadn’t expected him to, he had.

“I expected it of myself.” Harry pressed a kiss to his temple and Draco nearly broke down all over again. Hermione’s eyes were the only thing that managed to ground him—a reminder that they were not alone, and this was not some midnight Astronomy Tower meetup. 

“Why?” It was a fair question, but Draco still winced. Why had he done that? He’d just gone against every person who had ever supported him, who had ever loved him, and he’d betrayed his family... for what? Some schoolboy crush? But no, he shook his head, that wasn’t what this was. Harry wanted to know why? Then Draco would tell him why, because he deserved that and so much more. For the sleepless nights, for the panic attacks, for the worried little looks shot across a classroom full of people, Harry deserved more than that. 

“Loyalty.”


End file.
